Sorry - my students are more important than you!

No time for blogging until the report cards are finished.

My nickname

I probably should have told you about the origin of the name for my blog. For as long as I can remember, my dad called me 'JJ'. I don't remember when it started, but I know the story well. Most people assume that my middle name begins with a 'J', too. But my middle name is Gayle. Apparently my dad would use my first and middle name when he called for or talked to me, and I would say, "No, Daddy. It's Just Jennifer." Knowing my dad's sense of humor, I'm sure he thoroughly enjoyed calling me 'Just Jennifer'. Then he simply shortened it to 'JJ'. Except for that one summer when there were 4 Jennifers on my softball team, Dad was the only one who consistently used my nickname. Mom calles me 'JJ' sometimes, but not often. Super D considers it almost sacrilegious to use Dad's nickname for me. So, instead, he calls me 'J'. It's endearing.

Disobedience

One giant problem with our society is that often there are little to no consequences for our negative behavior. I keep referring back to the beginning of our nation when Captain John Smith led the colonists. Our early ancestors nearly failed their attempt at a colony until Captain Smith instituted rigid discipline and a policy which stated "He who does not work, will not eat." There was a consequence for laziness in Jamestown. Of course, everyone wanted to eat. As a result, the settlement survived and grew under his leadership.

I want my children to know that when they make bad choices, consequences will follow. Sometimes those consequences are natural. For example, if you fly a kite too near a tree, then the kite will get stuck, and you can no longer play with it. Bummer. But sometimes, parents have to set consequences for when their children break the rules. As a parent, finding an appropriate consequence is often a challenge. And if the consequence doesn't strike a nerve, then the child won't be deterred from the same behavior in the future.

I know what does it for my son. Today while we were out shopping, C was climbing and lying all over the dressing room furniture. I told him nicely to sit in one spot. And I told him again. And I told him again. And I told him again. Each time, using different wording to make sure he understood me. There was no doubt he knew what was expected of him. So when he disobeyed me for the 4th time, I told him that he could not play outside with the little boy across the street. And so began the begging. He begged for a "second" chance, not realizing that he had failed his second, third, and fourth chances. He begged for me to ground him from the game machines, TV, and computer. He cried so hard that I was afraid he might hyperventilate. My heart hurt. It was torture to stick to my word.

But my son deserves consistent parenting. He needs parents who will teach him right and wrong. And he needs parents who will hug him when he cries because he doesn't like the consequences.

Fridays, food, and friends

I've always wanted to be one of 'those' people whose friends show up at a restaurant and 'they' invite them to join 'them'. Unfortunately, we don't eat out often enough to see anyone we know while we're eating. Thanks to my mom, who was keeping my loving children tonight (Is it Friday yet?), Super D and I went out to dinner at Interurban. This restaurant has been a staple in our town for probably 30 years, and I don't ever remember having eaten there. The hostess seated us at a table for 4, and just after our dinner arrived, our next-door neighbors walked in. They agreed to join us when we asked. What an excellent dinner! Super D's food wasn't that great (again with the complaints of frozen processed meat, totally overlooking the delectable beer muffins), but the conversation was fabulous! We only get to enjoy their company for short bursts of time as we stand on our lawns, so it was pleasant to leisurely talk with them. And my Dixieland Bowtie Pasta was incredible! YUM!

My Nemesis

Did I mention how much I hate exercise? I'd rather be eating chocolate. Or ice cream. I'd rather be reading. I'd rather be playing with my children. I'd probably rather be gardening. (Did I just say that?)

I do like water aerobics. Of course, I don't have a pool. I like softball, but I haven't played on a church team in maybe 10 years. So, I would probably be the worst player on the team. I secretly enjoy Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies, but I simply don't have an hour every day to do aerobics, along with the hour it would take to shower and style my hair afterward.

That leaves cycling. This is the fourth day that my children and I have gone for a ride. The ten minutes a day left my legs like Jell-O. But today, the burn wasn't so bad. I didn't need my asthma inhaler. Maybe tomorrow I will make it fifteen minutes.

Anxiety Attack

This past month has had me freaking out. I've lost my little girl. A teenager, as tall as me, has moved into her bedroom. My sweet little girl was never concerned with her looks. She wore the same few t-shirts and pants over and over, sometimes without washing them. It was common for me to clean out her closet at the end of the season and find a brand new shirt, with the tag still on it, in a heap on the floor. She didn't like to take baths or brush her hair. I doubt she even looked in the mirror much.

This new girl is in some ways the polar opposite. She wants to wear make-up and style her hair a certain way. She is more interested in fashion. She wants to wear shoes with heels and carry a purse. She closes her door more because she values her privacy. And the lip gloss! She is obsessed with lip gloss! Don't even get me started on facebook.

What's next? Boys?

It's enough to give a mom an anxiety attack.

A Simple Act of Kindness

Just when I think that people are rude, selfish wretches, someone proves me wrong. A kind-hearted man at Taco Bueno restored my faith in humanity today. After I placed my family's order, I discovered that I had left my ID and bank card in my jacket pocket. (I knew that early morning doughnut bike ride would come back to haunt me.) As I was telling the employee that I was going to drive home to get it, a customer got up from his table, pulled out his wallet, reached across me to the cash register, and insisted on buying our lunch. In my embarrassment, I tried to protest, but he argued that it was ridiculous for me to drive home in order to eat lunch. Thank you Kind Taco Bueno Man for our $15 meal. Most importantly, thank you for the lesson you taught my kids. We will repay you by passing it on.

Year 3

Here we go again...

Yesterday, my husband (Super D) and I decided that this is the spring that our son will finally learn to ride his bike. Seriously, I can see the other middle school boys making fun of him a few years down the road. I refused to let this fear cripple him and keep him from accomplishing something which I knew would bring him great joy. So, today I drew the line in the sand. Actually, I drove his sister and him to Sonic Drive-In and told him that A and I were going to enjoy a Sonic Blast, and if he wanted one, too, he would have to agree to endure a lesson today and tomorrow on the dreaded "big-boy" bike. Now before you feel too sorry for him, I was still going to buy him a small ice cream treat anyway, but he jumped at my offer all too quickly.

With our bellies full, C donned his helmet and his elbow pads. He steadied himself atop his bike while I took a firm grasp of the waistband of his pants. As he started down the driveway, his balance was incredibly solid, so I said, "I'm going to let go now." And as he took off down the street like a rocket, I heard him yell, "It's a miracle!"

As the sun set, Super D and I had to force C to put his bike back in the garage. And we already have plans for an early morning ride.